


Goddesses

by damozel



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Community: ladiesbingo, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/F, Femslash, Magical Artifacts, Prompt Fill, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damozel/pseuds/damozel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the hunt for an artifact, Myka and Pete head to a strip joint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goddesses

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fill I've managed for my ladiesbingo card. The square I'm filling: Simply Irresistible: Sex God (or Goddess). I, um, took the prompt quite literally...

‘You’re sure this is the place?’ Myka asked as they turned the corner, and came face to face with a pair of heavy-set doormen.

This was not the way she would have chosen to spend her Friday night. Determined regardless, she tugged her curls into a loose pony tail, venting her frustration on her hair elastic. _Best foot forward, Myka Bering_ , she told herself. 

The walls of the run down club were plastered with pictures of half-naked girls, wearing what could be taken for Ancient Greek costumes if you squinted really, really hard. A sign reading _Goddesses_ , printed in gold, gaudy letters, sat above the entrance, and there had been an attempt to string a row of artificial grapes over the door.

‘That’s what Artie said,’ replied Pete with a grin. ‘Jeez the things I have to do for the job.’

Myka rolled her eyes at her over-excited partner and wondered, for the dozenth time that day, if he wasn’t in fact a twelve-year-old boy trapped in a man’s body.

‘Seems an appropriate place for Helen of Troy’s cuff bracelet,’ she retorted, her voice heavy with sarcasm as she took a firm hold of Pete’s arm. ‘Remember this is work not play. A straightforward artifact snag, then we’re out the door.’

‘Nice work man,’ one of the bouncers called after Pete as they entered. ‘My good lady wife would cut my dick off before she’d come to a place like this with me.’

‘Bite me,’ Myka muttered through gritted teeth. 

‘Hey, hey now! Let’s get you a drink and we can scope this joint out.’

***

The inside of the club was just as miserable. Their booth consisted of old, faded leather seats, and a sticky table. Too many drinks had been spilled that night already. Myka took a sip of her own cheap beer, but barely tasted it. On the podium, two girls with matching bleach blonde dye jobs were making a lack lustre attempt to make out, while a muscular, red-headed woman unhooked her bra as she twisted her body around the dancing pole. The pole dancer’s headdress, which might have been supposed to be a laurel, hung on limply as she swung upside down and opened her legs. Myka had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and even Pete’s face had begun to fall.

‘So, Mykes, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.’

That was until _she_ entered. 

‘Hey Pete, I think I’ve got something. Tall, dark brunette at 2 O’Clock. What’s that on her wrist?’

‘I think this is it, Mykes.’

The newcomer sashayed over to the agents’ table, looking for all the world as if she owned the place. Every head turned as she passed. On the other girls the Greek-style costumes looked cheap and tacky, but for her the short, white dress only served to emphasise her breathtaking figure. Myka tried to keep her eyes on the glittering, gold cuff that the woman wore, but it was hard not to be distracted by her dark, penetrating eyes and full lips.

‘Can I interest you in a private dance?’

The cultured, English accent was a surprise. The woman leaned ever-so-slightly over the table, revealing just enough cleavage to send a jolt of arousal through Myka’s system, and down to her groin. Her cheeks blushed bright red as she realised she was already becoming wet. 

‘Hey, if you insist,’ replied Pete, grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Actually I was talking to your friend,’ replied the woman in crisp tones.

Myka was too flustered to respond, but allowed herself to be taken by the hand. 

‘I got the goo, you grab the cuff,’ Pete whispered frantically in Myka’s ear as she allowed herself to be led away.

***

The cramped, private booth was painfully intimate. Myka could feel the door handle dig into the curve of her spine as she subconsciously tried to back away.

‘Is there anything you particularly like my darling?’ The woman let her right forearm rest against her head as she began to tease her breasts with her left hand. Her hard erect nipples were already beginning to show through the thin fabric of her dress.

It was not just Myka’s cheeks that blushed as she fought to maintain control.

‘Don’t think I don’t know what it is you’ve got there,’ stammered the agent, reaching for the bracelet as the woman pulled her hand away.

‘What, this old trinket?’ retorted the woman with a knowing laugh, unfastening the front of her dress and exposing both her breasts. ‘Believe me, I know all about it.’

‘Then you’ll know it’s not yours. And that you need to give it back.’

‘Not mine? What if I told you that I was Helena of Troy? That I had every right to it?’

‘The face that launched a thousand ships? I guess I can believe that armies might go to war over you.’

‘Oh, it’s always the woman that gets the blame. Those angry young men would have been ready to fight at the drop of a hat, they just needed a pretty face to give them an excuse.’ 

The warehouse agent let out a surprised laugh in spite of herself.

‘I suppose that a humble stripper can’t express her opinion of these ludicrous myths about women?’ demanded the Englishwoman, pouting indignantly.

‘Oh, you’re no ordinary stripper,’ retorted Myka. ‘But all this is besides the point. How about you tell me your real name? And how you came by the bracelet?’

‘I’ve already told you, my name’s Helena. Helena Wells. You can call me H.G.’

‘H.G.? _H.G. Wells_? I suppose you enjoy toying with people.’

‘Actually playing with other people is what I do for a living,’ laughed Helena with a wicked smile. ‘Then as you say, this is all besides the point. The cuff won’t leave my wrist.’

Helena reached towards the breathless, flustered agent, lightly fingering the buttons of her smart blouse, then unfastening them one by one. As the gold cuff made contact with Myka’s exposed flesh a charge, stronger than a thousand electric shocks, rocked her slender frame. The power of the artifact flowed directly into her body, overcoming every inch of her. 

‘Now kneel’

Myka was now completely overwhelmed; spellbound by the hot, sensual glow of Helena’s presence. She looked up at the stunning woman who stood over her. She shone, to Myka's addled brain, like the light at the centre of the universe.

‘Fingers first.’

The warehouse agent’s fingers shyly skirted the edge of Helena’s dress, before timidly touching her panties. Scarcely daring to go further.

‘Do as you’re told.’

Myka was powerless, entirely lost in the immense, devastating fog of desire.

Clumsily, the warehouse agent slipped her fingers inside the scanty underwear. She carefully traced the edge of Helena’s labia, eventually locating her clit. Myka might be a beginner when it came to other women, but, as the gold cuff on Helena’s wrist glowed brighter and brighter, the charm of its powers led her on. She stroked nervously at first, unsure of her companion’s needs and responses. Her confidence was slowly building. Realising that Helena was as impossibly, ridiculously wet as she was – and unable to resist the commanding power of the voice – she slipped one finger inside, then another. As Helena’s moans of pleasure became more and more intense, she tried for a third. Succeeding, she thrust harder and harder with her hand, deeper and deeper.

‘Now your tongue, my dear.’ 

Helena spread her legs obscenely far apart as she came down to the kneeling woman’s level. She reached out to tuck Myka’s wayward curls behind her ears, accidentally allowing the cuff to catch in the younger woman’s hair, to slip from her wrist. Panicked, H.G. grabbed at the thin air as Helen of Troy’s bracelet fell through her fingers, sparking and fizzing as it made contact with the hard wood floor. 

The spell of the artifact was temporarily broken, but Myka Bering was going nowhere. Pete’s frantic calls from outside the booth were roundly ignored, as the bouncers came to escort him from the premises, and Myka tasted Helena with her tongue for the very first time. 

It was Myka, not Helena, who cried out with ecstasy as she pulled away. Despite barely being touched, she was already coming apart at the thought of the pleasure she was giving to the goddess who stood before her. The goddess who, at that moment, she would have given her life to serve. 

‘Your partner doesn’t have his Tesla, does he?’ Helena asked, mischievously. ‘You don’t need to waste your time asking how I know about the ray guns.’

Myka couldn’t have responded if she tried. Helena's overpowering, enchanting taste still burned on her lips. Stranded completely and utterly in this moment of pure desire and pleasure, the warehouse agent hoped she would never have to leave the tiny locked room.


End file.
